


Promises Have Teeth

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Blood, But It Kinda Turns You Into A Werewolf A Little, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Not Saying Giving Into The Hunt Turns You Into A Werewolf A Little, So many promises, Spoilers Through Episode 158, The Power Of Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: “Basira? Promise me something.”The world is filled with gunshots and laughter. Daisy’s voice cuts through both with a strength that Basira hasn’t heard in weeks, months, since before the Unknowing, before Daisy went into the ground. Still holding her gun, she shoots a glance at Daisy and sees what’s been missing from her eyes, the loss of which she had mourned and the return of which breaks her heart. That predator gaze, that wild, feral gleam.“What?” Basira asks, and then suddenly she knows what Daisy is going to ask. Daisy isn’t a big film watcher but Basira is, and she’s seen this happen again and again on big screens and small. A couple, one of them a human, one of them becoming a monster, and the monster always asks for the other to— “No. Daisy, no.”





	Promises Have Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue taken directly from episode 158.

Daisy spends weeks in the hospital after she comes out of the Buried. The doctors don’t ask questions, just like they hadn’t asked questions when Jon had been brought in, his brain alive with activity and his nerves firing even as his heart had refused to beat and his lungs had refused to breathe. They just administer IV’s and painkillers, schedule the physical therapy needed for Daisy’s atrophied muscles and give Basira a packet of care sheets for what they both need to do after Daisy is allowed to come home.

Basira is been halfway through the packet when Daisy opens her eyes, her gaze clouded by the drugs. “—Basira?”

“I’m here.” Basira takes one of Daisy’s hands in both of hers. She’s cold, not burning with the feverish heat that would threaten to consume her later. The chill of the underground is still on her.

“I couldn’t hear it, down in the dirt.” Daisy says quietly. “The Hunt—my blood— it was _quiet._ But now— I hear it whispering again.”

“Don’t listen,” Basira says automatically. She know it’s the right thing to say, even as she looks into Daisy’s eyes and feels that there’s something missing there, a certain gleam. The loss is worth it if it means having Daisy back, but still, part of Basira mourns the loss even as she hates herself for missing it.

“I won’t,” Daisy tells her. “I promise.”

———————

The first night after Daisy comes home from the hospital, they sleep next to each other, close but not touching. For once, Basira gets to have all the blankets she’s ever wanted, as Daisy immediately throws them to the other side of the bed after only a moment spent under them.

“Sorry,” Daisy says, breathing heavily. “The pressure, it just feels like—“

“It’s all right,” Basira assures her quickly. “It really is.” She reaches out for Daisy’s hand. Daisy can’t tolerate a hug or being held close right now, but holding hands doesn’t make her flinch, doesn’t make her gasp or shake. She runs her thumb over Daisy’s knuckles, the knobs of bone so much more pronounced than they had been. She’s warmer now than she had been at the hospital, and Basira thinks that it’s a good thing. They fall asleep like that, holding hands.

Sometime in the night, Basira half wakes when she hears something whining, followed by a low growl.

_Just a dog outside,_ Basira thinks, already falling back into dreams. The sounds of the city, that’s all it is.

The sudden weight on her hips and the raking of nails across her chest snaps Basira awake, her hands flying up to grab her attacker’s wrists before her eyes and her brain can catch up. When it does, all she can do is stare at Daisy looming over her, her hair tangled from sleep, her eyes only half open, the whites shining in the moonlight as she snarls at Basira like a wild animal, as she thrashes in Basira’s grip, trying desperately to claw at her again.

“Daisy?” It’s supposed to be a shout, but it comes out soft and confused, like trying to yell in a nightmare. She tries again. “Daisy!”

The snarling stops, and for a moment the only sound in the room is Basira’s ragged breathing. Then Daisy gasps and her eyes open wide, filling with awareness and then fear.

“Basira? What am I— What did I—?”

Basira lets go of Daisy’s wrists (there will be bruises there later that will fade faster than her guilt) and turns on the beside lamp. Both of them hiss and wince, squinting in the sudden light.

“You were having a nightmare,” Basira says gently. “It’s over now. It’s all right. You’re all right.”

“It didn’t feel like a nightmare,” Daisy says, and her voice is soft and distant. “I was running and I was strong and there was—“ She gasps suddenly. “Basira, your _chest._”

Basira shifts a little and looks down. There’s blood beading on her skin from where Daisy has scratched her, and now that the adrenaline has worn off some she can feel the sharp sting.

“Just a few scratches,” Basira says lightly, and smiles reassuringly up at Daisy. “I mean, we’ve done worse to each other in this bed.”

Daisy doesn’t smile back, just stares down at her hands until Basira takes them in hers. Her skin is fever hot. Later, Basira will think about all the energy Daisy used to have when she hunted her quarry and how it has nowhere to go, nothing to do except burn inside of the woman she loves. “You’re burning up. How about we take a nice cold shower together?”

Daisy doesn’t say anything as she climbs off of Basira and out of bed, walking halfway across the room before she pauses, her head bowed. “Maybe you should— just go.”

Basira, halfway out of bed, feels herself grow hot and then cold, her heart beating frantically again. The way Daisy says those words sounds final, sounds like forever, and that frightens Basira much more than Daisy attacking her in her sleep. “Daisy—“

“I’m not safe,” Daisy says quietly.

Basira eases herself out of bed and quietly crosses to where Daisy stands, moving as if Daisy were a wild animal she didn’t want to scare off. She takes her hands again and leans her forehead against Daisy’s own. “I’m not going to leave you,” Basira says quietly. “We’re partners, Daisy. That means I’ve got your back, no matter what happens, just like you’ve got mine. We can get through this, the two of us. Together. I promise.”

Daisy lets out her breath in a shaky sigh. “All right,” she says softly. “Together.”

Later, after Daisy has trimmed her nails, after they’ve both showered and gone back to bed, Basira will feel Daisy’s hand reach for her in the dark, will hear her whisper a promise that will follow her into sleep.

“I’ll never hurt you again.”

————-

“Basira? Promise me something.”

The world is filled with gunshots and laughter. Daisy’s voice cuts through both with a strength that Basira hasn’t heard in weeks, months, since before the Unknowing, before Daisy went into the ground. Still holding her gun, she shoots a glance at Daisy and sees what’s been missing from her eyes, the loss of which she had mourned and the return of which breaks her heart. That predator gaze, that wild, feral gleam.

“What?” Basira asks, and then suddenly she knows what Daisy is going to ask. Daisy isn’t a big film watcher but Basira is, and she’s seen this happen again and again on big screens and small. A couple, one of them a human, one of them becoming a monster, and the monster always asks for the other to— “No. Daisy, no.”

“Basira, when this is over, you need to find me and kill me.” Her breathing is harsher now, like she’s fighting to hold something back just long enough to speak. “Promise me.”

Basira would shake her head, but that would mean losing focus on what’s in front of her, the enemies that will be coming for them at any moment. “_No_. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out.”

“These last few months—“ Basira doesn’t look over, but she can hear the little twist of a smile in Daisy’s voice. “It was always borrowed time, wasn’t it? Can’t outrun it forever.”

“_Daisy,_” Basira pleads, even though she knows that this is going to happen whether she wants it to or not.

“Promise me.”

What else can Basira do, but agree to this last request? “I promise,” she says, and it means _I love you._

_“_Thanks,” Daisy says, and it means _I love you too._ “Now run.”

“Daisy—“

Daisy turns to look at her, the color of her eyes brightening into an impossible gold. “**_Run_**,” she growls, and her voice is beautiful and terrifying, as deadly as the teeth that crowd her jaw, sharp as the broken pieces of Basira’s heart.

Basira runs, both out of fear and out of love.

—————

The tunnels below the Institute are a nightmare. Not because Basira finds anything down there but because she doesn’t. No Jon, no Peter or Martin, no Elias. No creeping horrors either at least, just tunnels that shift and move and change. She’s not in the habit of wearing a watch and her phone is somewhere up above, sitting on Jon’s desk, so she only has her own exhaustion to tell the time with. She keeps moving, occasionally calling out for Martin or Jon, gun drawn in case she runs across Peter or that _thing_ that killed Sasha or— Daisy.

It’s all she can think about, the promise biting at her mind and heart with sharp teeth. She’s promised to kill Daisy.

“It won’t be Daisy anymore,” Basira tries to tell herself, her voice echoing oddly off the stone even though her voice is barely above a whisper.“ It’ll just be the Hunt. _She_ won’t be in there. Don’t— don’t let it use her like that.”

There’s a sound from ahead of her and Basira holds her breath, hands tightening slightly on her gun. A footstep. That had definitely been a footstep.

“Jon?” Basira calls, her voice cracking. Her throat is so dry and the muscles in her legs have been trembling and aching for so long that it’s just part of the background for her now. How long has she been down here? “Martin?”

The growl is low and quiet, yet somehow it goes straight down into Basira’s bones, threatening to shake her apart. She takes a deep breath and raises her gun. “Daisy?”

The growl grows louder and then—

If it had been a werewolf that had come around the corner, or something worse, something more Wrong, like the thing that killed Sasha, Basira thinks she would have shot it without hesitation or at least _less_ hesitation. But it’s Daisy who steps out of the shadows. She’s covered in blood, (her own or someone else's or both, she doesn’t know) her nails have lengthened and her teeth no longer fit properly in her mouth, but it’s _Daisy._

Basira’s arms begin to shake as Daisy moves slowly towards her. In movies, people can continue aiming a gun through an entire villain monologue with a steady hand, but muscle fatigue is all too real. Soon she’ll either have to shoot her gun or lower it.

_Center mass_, Basira thinks, adjusting her aim, taking a step backward. A headshot would be quicker but they’re not nearly as easy to pull off as a shot to the chest. “Daisy, Daisy I love—“

Daisy snarls, a feral, terrible sound that shouldn’t be able to come from a human throat. Maybe it doesn’t.

Her arms burn, She has to shoot, she has to shoot now or she’ll miss and Daisy will _kill _her. She _knows _that and yet it doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t seem real because—

“You promised to never hurt me!” Basira shouts. “Daisy, you promised to never hurt me again, remember? We can find a way to fix this, we can—“

That’s when Daisy leaps.

That’s when the gun goes off.

Basira hits the floor of the tunnel hard enough to knock the wind out of her, the gun flying from her hand, her head smacking hard into the stone. Her ears are ringing and the world is a pulsing thing, her vision a black blur around the edges. There is an explosion of pain where her shoulder meets her neck and Basira doesn’t realize why until Daisy lifts her head and she sees the blood dripping down her chin. Basira brings her arm up to protect her throat from Daisy’s teeth, too many and too sharp. They sink into her flesh so easily, going straight to the bone, snapping it.

_So is that it then?_ Basira thinks calmly even as her body thrashes, as she continues to fight for a few more precious seconds of life. She can feel Daisy’s teeth scraping against bone, feels warm blood pulsing from her in time with her heart. She wonders if she managed to shoot Daisy after all, if some of that blood is hers. Do avatars of the Hunt heal fast? Surely they do.

Basira’s arm begins to lose strength and Daisy’s face is closer now, teeth just inches from her throat. Basira wonders if it will hurt. Maybe it won’t. Everything already hurts less now. She’s starting to get cold. Did Daisy nick an artery when she bit her? She tries to remember how long it can take someone to bleed to death. Minutes? Is it minutes?

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” Basira says, or thinks she says. She can’t hear herself over the ringing in her ears and Daisy’s muffled snarls. but she can feel her lips forming the words. “I promised I would kill you, but I didn’t. I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m so sorry.”

Deliriously, she thinks about the stories she had read as a child, about brave women who held their true loves in their arms as they turned into all manner of beasts, not letting go until their love regained human form, breaking their curses. Basira has been shoving at Daisy with her left arm, but there’s no strength behind her movements anymore. Her arm feels like lead when she lifts it, when she lets it fall across Daisy’s back. It could almost be an embrace. She realizes, suddenly, that this is the first embrace they’ve had in months. She thinks she laughs. They’re together, and that’s somehow the most important thing.

Basira stares up into Daisy’s eyes, golden and dangerous and beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the eyes she had fallen in love with a lifetime ago.

“I still love you,” Basira says. Her eyes are beginning to close against her will. That should frighten her. If she loses consciousness, Daisy will tear out her throat. She can feel Daisy shudder suddenly, violently on top of her. Maybe Basira shot her after all. Maybe they’re dying together, and in the end Basira was able to keep her promise. Have Daisy’s eyes lost their golden hue, or is the color draining out of the world with her blood? She can’t tell, and now she can’t see.

“Basira?”

Basira feels her lips try to twitch into a smile. Even at the last, her mind can still conjure up Daisy’s voice to comfort her.

“Basira? Oh no, no no no, Basira!” Daisy’s voice is panicked and it sounds so faint, so far away.

Wait. Wait. Wait—

—————

Awareness comes and goes in fits and starts. Tunnel walls. Something wrapped around her arm. Something pressed where her shoulder and her neck meet.

“Don’t you leave me, Basira.” Daisy’s voice is rough, a broken thing. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

Dark.

Movement. Noise. Lights.

“M’am, you’ve been shot, you need to—“

“I need to go with her! She’s my— she’s _mine._ She’s my partner, I need to—“

The sting of a needle.

Dark.

Dark.

Light.

Basira opens her eyes, for a moment just staring at the white ceiling above her, trying to make her slow and fuzzy thoughts coalesce into something useful. Her shoulder aches, and her right arm feels weird and stiff. This isn’t her room. This isn’t her bed. Where—?

Memories return in a trickle. The Institute. The tunnels. Daisy’s golden predator gaze. Daisy. _Daisy!_

Basira turns her head. There’s pain when she does that, a dull ache radiating from the back of her skull. She notes the smell of disinfectant, the soft beeping of monitors, the IV stand next to her bed. All of that is important, but not as important as the person sleeping in a chair next to her, not nearly as important as that person’s hand stretched out to rest on hers.

Daisy. Daisy alive. Daisy bruised and bandaged, one leg tucked underneath her, head thrown back, snoring faintly. Daisy, whose eyes, when they open, are warm and _human._

“Basira?”

“Hey,” Basira says weakly, her voice a dry rasp. “I’m really thirsty.”

Daisy laughs, and so does Basira, both of them not at what was said, but out of sheer relief.

“What happened?” Basira asks a few minutes later, after Daisy’s fiddled with the bed so she can sit up and drink some water. The room is a private one, could even be the same one Jon was in during his coma for all she knows. Her bed is nearly big enough for two people. “How long—“

“Four days,” Daisy says, her tone and the cadence of her words slipping back to echo her time on the force. She could be giving a report right now. “You were brought in suffering from a skull fracture, a broken arm and severe blood loss from several bites caused by an unknown animal while you were hiding from Trevor Herbert and Julia Montauk, who had broken into the Institute for reasons unknown. They shot and killed sixteen people before they themselves were attacked and killed by the same animal that attacked you. Officially.”

“Officially,” Basira echoes. “And unofficially?”

Daisy takes a deep breath and takes Basira’s hand again as if to steady herself. “Unofficially— Elias is back running things, or he would be if there was anything to run. You and I are _here_ and Martin and Jon are _not._ Elias is being terribly cryptic about that, says they’ll be back soon, and I’d be more worried about that but I’ve been a little pre-occupied.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Basira says. It’s meant to be a joke, but Daisy doesn’t even crack a smile, just rubs her thumb over Basira’s knuckles.

“I nearly killed you,” Daisy whispers.

“The Hunt nearly killed me,” Basira says quietly. “Not you.”

Daisy shakes her head. “I let it back in, Basira. Even if it was to protect you and Jon, I let it back in. Even if I was lost in there, you almost died because of my choice.”

“And I could have just as easily died from getting shot or being torn apart by that— not Sasha thing if you hadn’t.” She squeezes Daisy’s hand. “We could argue in circles about this for hours or days or years, but it’s all going to come back to the same point. I’m alive, you’re alive, and I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Daisy says softly. “You brought me back. When I gave in, when I gave myself over to the Hunt, everything was so _clear, _so _simple. _Chase what is weaker than you. Kill what would want to kill you. People stopped having _names_. Julia and Trevor were just things-that-would-kill-me. _You_ were just thing-that-would-kill-me. You were talking to me, I could _hear_ you, but the words didn’t mean anything. All that mattered was killing you before you killed me.” She gestures to her side with a tilt of her head and the barest of smiles. Basira can see the shape of bandages under her shirt. “You’re out of practice, that was a terrible shot.”

“Forgive me for not killing you,” Basira says dryly.

“I already have,” Daisy says. “Though if you hadn’t pulled through I would have—“

“Don’t,” Basira says as sharply as she can manage, and Daisy goes quiet for a long moment.

“It’s still part of me, Basira.” Daisy closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, they’re that shining, feral gold for the space of a heartbeat before shifting back. “I can control it. I don’t know _how_. Elias said some things about anchors and the power of sacrifice and resonance and destroying what you love and I don’t know if anything he said was true or if he is just as clueless as I am and doesn’t want to admit it. I don’t _know. _I just know that my teeth were in you and then your arm was on me and it was so _heavy, _but not like when I was buried, not like the crushing dirt. Like— okay maybe Elias was right about anchors. Suddenly you were _Basira_ and when you told me you loved me I could _understand_ you and then I was me again. The Hunt was still there in the blood and bones of me, I could still feel it, but I was _me_. I’m still _me._” Daisy’s voice rises a little, fear making it sharp. “I don’t know how long this will last, I don’t—“

Basira squeezes Daisy’s hand before she lets it go, reaching up to wipe away the tears that have started to fall from Daisy’s eyes. “However long we have, I’ll be with you.”

“Basira, if I lose control, if I lose _myself _again—“

“I’ll be with you,” Basira says again, more firmly, and there’s a promise there, unspoken, but no less heartfelt for all that. “We’re in this together. All the way to the end.”

“All the way to the end,” Daisy echoes.

When the nurse on duty comes in, she’ll find Daisy curled up next to Basira on the bed, Daisy’s head on Basira’s chest, Basira’s holding Daisy close with her unbroken arm. The nurse won’t know that Daisy risked a panic attack to be held like that, that Daisy hadn’t cared, had just wanted to be close to Basira without blood in her mouth and teeth in her flesh. She’ll gently admonish the two of them as Daisy gets out of the bed, and won’t be at all surprised when she finds them asleep together again during her next round. It’s hard to keep some people apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 158 was just SO MUCH, wasn't it? And as hard as I was screaming about Martin (is it wrong to be so proud of a fictional character?) and Jon (throwing himself into the Lonely without a second thought), my heart was also breaking for Daisy and Basira, so I had to write some sort of (mostly) happy outcome for them. 
> 
> I'm angel-ascending on Tumblr and angel_in_ink on Twitter if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


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